


find me on the off-beat

by ej (mirandabeach)



Category: The Usual Suspects (1995)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, i just i don't know, what came over me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirandabeach/pseuds/ej
Summary: He tasted like whiskey, bitter and dirty just like him.





	find me on the off-beat

Neither of them were what any normal person considered ideal.

Fenster was a tall bastard, skinny in all the wrong spots and full of tar from thousands of cigarettes. His nose had been broken in a job gone bad, back when he was too young and too stupid. (They should never have put him in charge of explosives on that one.) The bags under his eyes were heavier and darker ever since, as if in solidarity with the constantly blooming bruises. His clothes never fit right, his accent was foul, and he was too preoccupied with the money, the rush, the _thrill_  of a job to worry much about settling down with some pretty thing.

Besides, no pretty thing even batted him an eye.

McManus wasn't pretty.

His eyes were, sure. Blue and vibrant, and eyes really shouldn't be allowed to look that much like a clear blue sky. But the full beard he decided to grow a few years into their friendship, chiseled arms and calloused hands that still looked soft cradling a rifle; that's what made him downright _handsome_. Fenster had struck up a friendship with a killing machine, who's blue eyes became crazed, teeth shining sharp through his beard when he held a smoking gun.

But Fenster didn't mind. He took quickly to having a handsome little thing instead.

A handsome little thing who looked at him with those pretty eyes like he was a meal, who dug his nails so deep his shoulders bled, who liked to pin him to his shitty mattress (a small thing he couldn't bear to give up. It reminded him of his old life, before the jobs, before McManus) and fuck him so hard nothing else mattered.

He called him a pretty thing, as he was wiping away the cum on his thighs. He whispered about how great he was against the jut of his hip, sucked marks into the skin of his legs after talking about how sexy he was, and the praise eventually left Fenster right where he had begun.

Vision gone white from pleasure, body vibrating from the same thrill he felt when he held a pistol and ran, ran, ran.

They lay together after. At first, things had been messy and quick. Pants coming right back on and hair half-heartedly patted down in a mirror. It wasn't supposed to be like this, with such soft words and touches making them more vulnerable than they'd been in their lives.

Fenster worshipped his muscles, feeling them flex under his grip. It was like watching his soul move beneath skin, the strength that made McManus _McManus_  responding to Fenster's touch. He let it speak for itself, content to listen to their intakes and exhales.

But McManus liked to trace his scars, those rough hands now soft, taking their time to soak in the stories behind them. Fenster doesn't miss a beat; pistol whipped near his ear, pocket knife to the shoulder, "the guy had a ring on when he punched me in the face". His words slurred now, accent thicker than ever from the dog shit he spouted.

McManus couldn't help it.

"Spic bastard." The laughter bubbled out of him and his hands paused. Fenster's eyes opened (when had he become so comfortable, closing his eyes inches from another criminal, another _murderer_ ) and slid over to him.

And he smirked, teeth yellow and sharp and _foul, foul, foul_. His hand curled into the collar of McManus' shirt, urging him down and licking sinfully into his mouth. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and dirty just like him. Fenster chased the taste as he shoved his tongue down his partner's throat.

The weight of their kiss forced McManus onto his back, moaning when Fenster's thigh situated itself against his crotch. They were well on their way again, until Fenster pulled away completely. (He was barely inches away, but it felt like _miles_. McManus was held down firmly when his hips rose to chase the feeling, and he whimpered. McManus was a criminal, and here he was, whimpering like he was a virgin.)

"Cocksucker." His tongue, so wet and so pink, darted out to lick his lips.

The image of Fenster, hands still holding his hips down, lips tight around his cock and swollen red, shook McManus to the core.

The image of McManus, hands clutching onto his hair for dear life, mouth open and letting out shaky breaths, moans and praise, shook Fenster.

They breathed in, smelled the tar and whiskey, and knew they were ruined.

**Author's Note:**

> fuck man idk,,, we watched this in class and i was inspired,,,,, the title is from daydream / wetdream / nightmare by saint motel


End file.
